


Rumors

by foxyk



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Batman Eternal (Comics), Green Lantern (Comics), Green Lantern - All Media Types, Hal Jordan and the Green Lantern Corps (Comics)
Genre: Accidental Cuddling, Bruce and Hal are idiots, Crushes, Drugging, First Kiss, First Time, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pining, Pre-Slash, Rumors, Slash, Unsafe Safe Houses, tuxedoes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-24
Updated: 2017-07-07
Packaged: 2018-10-23 07:09:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10714671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foxyk/pseuds/foxyk
Summary: Everyone knows that Batman and Green Lantern are banging... right?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thank-you to [TheLiterator](http://archiveofourown.org/users/theliterator) for the beta read!
> 
> Comments fuel my soul <3

“I’m fine, I just need to change suits, I’ll be back for monitor duty on time.” If asked, Hal would ardently deny having intimate knowledge of the different tenors of the Dark Knight’s voice, but Batman sounded even more gravelly than usual, a half exasperated groan as Hal rounded the corner into Superman and Batman’s conversation.

The exasperation made a sudden, shocking kind of sense sense as, apparently, Batman needed a new suit because the one he was wearing was covered in gelatinous orange… _something_.

“Is that corrosive?” Hal might have squeaked, after his first instinct of ‘flee’ had passed.

“No.” Batman growled.

“Unclear.” Superman countered.

“I’ve run a spectral analysis. It is inert biological material of extraterrestrial origin that poses no threat past laundering issues and making me late for monitor duty.” Now Batman just sounded tired, his usual affected Gotham accent slipping into the posh, almost transcontinental diction of Bruce Wayne, and his voice was more clearly rough from shouting rather than the styled Bat-growl.

“When’s the last time you slept, Spooky? I can take your monitor duty.” Hal offered, aiming for casual.

“You just got off duty with J’onn, I’m not going to put you right back in again, it could--”

“Affect my efficiency, I’ve heard the spiel.” Hal rolled his eyes then fixed Batman with a stare he had found intimidated more humanoid aliens, “You still haven’t answered my question.”

“I always sleep better earthside,” Batman demurred. Hal knew for a fact that before his recent fight alongside Superman, Batman had been doing a system upgrade on the Javelin that took fully two days of almost constant monitoring.

“How about _I_ take your monitor duty and Hal makes sure our tactical efficiency stays tip-top by making sure our primary tactician sleeps?” Superman smiled his billion watt grin and Batman actually cringed. Now Hal _knew_ something was up.

“I’m going to take a shower.” Batman huffed, sweeping his cape in a way that would surely have been impressive if it hadn’t splattered the nearest wall in orange. Batman was gone before Hal could even make a joke about it.

“I will take your monitor shifts for a week if you make sure he goes to bed.” Superman broke the silence.

“A month.” Hal countered.

“Two weeks, and I’ll help you next time you move.” Hal mulled it over, he didn’t necessarily need help with heavy lifting, but if he got Barry to help as well, he could be out of one apartment and unpacked in another within an hour.

“Also you get to clean whatever the hell that is off the wall.” Hal counter offered.

“Deal.” Superman stuck his hand out to shake.

“Deal.” Hal shook it and used his ring to scan the station to figure out which bathroom Batman had snuck off to. 

Over the years since Darkseid’s attack, the Justice League had formed, disbanded, and re-formed, but always with the same main core, Superman, Wonder Woman, Flash, Batman, and Hal. Aquaman was here and there over the years, ruling below the sea; Martian Manhunter went where he pleased which usually meant he was close when needed, Shazam had gotten especially flaky over the last few years, but Hal was pretty sure it was because he was taking some classes, Hal had seen him with textbooks a few times recently, but they didn't look like the normal college ones, so maybe he taught high school in his downtime.

###

“Whatever Clark offered you I’ll double it if you go away.” Batman groaned, probably aiming for a growl. Hal had found him standing under the flow of two shower heads in the corner of the founder’s gym shower. It was a pretty good hiding place as far as community showers went, available only to founding members, and since it was tucked away farther from the main living areas, nearly all of them used the workout center a few floors down. Most of the orange had slid only slightly down the suit, clinging stubbornly to the kevlar, canvas, and leather.

“Don’t you have like, a literal ton of electronics in that suit?” Hal asked, ignoring Batman’s order.

“Yes, it’s all well shielded. Go away.” Batman sighed, using a scrub brush to scour the orange off one of his gauntlets. The attempt was probably less effective than he’d hoped, but after a few long, silent seconds, the bright orange abated to translucent before the black of the gauntlet shined clean in the falling water.

“Give me your cape.” Hal offered, standing just outside the splash zone. The white lenses of the cowl stared blankly at him but Hal had an enormous amount of practice gauging Batman’s moods off of only the set of his jaw and he could practically read him like a book now, at this moment both calculating and confused. 

“I can help, I’ve got the world’s best scrubber,” Hal held up a construct of a scrub brush with a grin, “I promise not to scuff it.”

Batman stood practically frozen for another 20 seconds before he reached up and unclipped the cape, catching it before it fell to the ground in a well-practiced move. He held the cape out to Hal almost hesitantly and immediately moved to a new spot on his arm when it was apparent Hal wasn’t going to drop it.

“I knew it was heavy but damn,” Hal whistled as he set up a clothesline construct to hold the cape under the spray of another showerhead.

“Leather and reinforced silk around a Kevlar weave,” Batman offered after a brief silence, clearly making better progress now that the water wasn’t competing with the cape.

Hal found that a giant squeegee blade did a pretty decent job on the leather side, sluicing goop to the floor in frankly disgusting ribbons. The silk took more effort, and by the time Hal was done worrying rivulets of orange out of the reinforced silk, Batman was on his last boot, probably grateful that his back had stayed mostly clean.

Batman went over to the lockers and pulled a tightly folded bag out of one, opening it to an exaggerated duffel size. “Thank you for your help, I’ve got it from here,” He took the cape off Hal’s clothesline to fold it into the duffel, followed by his gauntlets, boots, and cowl. When Batman looked up he was Bruce Wayne, but not the magazine version, more what he might look like at the breakfast table or after the gym. He had sweaty hair sticking in every direction and an almost pillow crease impression on his face where the cowl must have bunched, but it definitely didn't detract from the overall attractiveness. If Hal was honest about it, it probably made him hotter. Bruce’s head tilted like a confused puppy when he noticed Hal’s continued presence, but his face stayed the same blank mask. “Thank you.” He repeated, hands hovering awkwardly for a moment before he removed the utility belt.

“You’re welcome.” Hal replied, moving to his own locker to pull out the change of clothes he kept there. If Bruce wasn’t going to be comfortable showering when Hal was supervising, Hal was going to shower too. Leaving meant the slippery Bat would disappear and he was excited to get rid of those monitor shifts.

“I’ve got it from here.” Bruce repeated, slowly, like maybe Hal didn’t understand English.

“Yeah, and I’m taking a shower, it’s been a long day,” Hal dropped his uniform construct and stripped down before putting on his flip flops and taking his shower caddy over to the side of the showers farthest from where the Batsuit cleaning had commenced. There was a thankful lack of orange goo as the drainage system was excellent (designed by Bruce himself) and could drain just about anything-- though the filters were definitely going to need to be changed out after today.

As he was shampooing his hair he heard one of the other shower heads turn on, and he politely ignored the other shower’s occupant to focus on his own task at hand, finishing in record time before he tucked the towel around his waist and moved back to the benches. Happily between Bruce and the only door, he brushed his hair into half a semblance of order before pulling on some ridiculously comfortable worn out jeans and a freebie Mobil Jet Oil shirt that Carol had thrown at his face a few months back.

“Hey B, you in here? Alfred asked me to grab your suit and give you this,” Clark pushed into the locker room and handed Bruce a dark gray travel mug with a black Bat emblazoned on the side. Hal's mouth went dry when he turned and saw the black Under Armour shirt Bruce was in, stretched taut across abs that probably made even Clark feel like doing a few sit ups.

"Is there a particular reason it's all sticky?" Bruce asked, wiping a hand across the metal with a grimace before scrubbing it off on his sweatpants, "And I'm not drinking his drugged tea, I will sleep _when. I'm. Ready._ " he growled, putting the mug down forcefully on the bench and passing the duffel of batsuit to Clark.

Clark was acting... strangely. Bruce didn't seem to notice, which put Hal on point. The Man of Steel was hovering a half inch off the ground and chewing on his lip as he held the bag, like he was waiting for... _something_. Hal looked more closely at Bruce who now seemed to think his hands were very interesting. He rubbed his palms together, staring at the skin like there was an answer written there. Hal moved closer when he saw Bruce sway almost dangerously, but he caught himself on the locker door.

"Transdermal... I don't..." Bruce stopped short and then laughed, a chilling little giggle that made the hairs on Hal's neck stand on end, "I wish I could hate you, boy scout. Hal, can you be mad at him for me?" Bruce's voice was all Brucie and his blue eyes were hugely black with pupil. He smiled drunkenly, leaning heavily against the lockers.

"That probably wouldn't be too hard," Hal gave Clark a sharp look. 

"I thought it would knock him all the way out, but apparently his tolerance is too high?" Clark shrugged.

"Because you… what’s the fancy word for idiots?” Bruce suddenly stared at his hands again, falling silent.

Hal snorted, pressing a hand between Bruce’s shoulder blades and walking him out of the locker room without a reply. 

“IMBECILES!” Bruce announced triumphantly as they reached the door to his quarters. Hal didn’t even realize Bruce was still thinking about the attempted sentence, “Yes. You _imbeciles_ insist on drugging me when, I’m _fine_.” He failed three times to unlock the biometrics key and slid down the door, tucking himself into a deadly little shadow against the kickplate. Hal realized then that Clark had in fact followed them as he pressed his hand to the plate. A chain reaction occurred as the door slid away, causing Bruce to fall with an oomph onto the pillow projection that Hal had just enough time to put out to stop his head from bouncing on the floor. A jolt of jealousy shot through Hal as he realized that the door would have had to have been set in the past to allow Clark access to Bruce’s room, but he pushed that down, 

“Let’s get you into bed big guy, so I can do that paperwork for Carol and kick this tin can.”

“You didn’t hear the solar storm alerts?” Clark asked as Hal maneuvered Bruce to the bed on what was certainly _not_ a spatula construct.

Hal focused the 200ish pounds of deadweight situated onto the bed without incident, “You’re being serious of course. I have things to _do_.” He silently cursed the universe.

“Sorry. Also my break’s over, I’ve gotta get back to Barry before he starts trying to phase through things out of boredom. I’ll let you know when we’ve got more than just primary life support.” Clark waved as he slipped out of the room.

“Hey,” Hal found out Bruce was not asleep as previously assumed when a hand closed almost uncomfortably tightly around Hal’s right wrist. It was probably a fair assumption that he’d swing with his right hand in surprise but it could have simply been coincidence instead of a Bat-Plan.

“What are you doing?” He asked with as much goodwill as he could muster for the vigilante attempting to manhandle him into a computer chair. “You heard Supes; solar storm, everything but life support turns off, the electronics can’t handle it.”

In answer, Bruce pushed a small round button on his monitor, bringing the display springing to light.

“Are you serious? You have a computer terminal in space that works during a solar storm?”

“Yes.” Bruce replied, already burying his face back into the pillows.

“Is this some kind of Batman thing that you get by being ridiculously rich?” Hal asked, fishing his jump drive off his key ring.

Bruce mumbled a muffled something that sounded like assent and went silent.

###

Time moved differently in Space. With a sunrise every 45 minutes and soundproofing in every room, most social constructs of time went missing.

Bruce had to pee and he had no idea how long he’d even been asleep.

As he stumbled to his ensuite he almost upset the chair that Green Lantern was curled into, attempting either to snap his neck or set the world’s snoring record. Did world records work in space? He’d have to ask Hal when he woke up.

Maybe he should go back to bed. 

Bruce emptied his bladder and swished away the _planetary orbit’s_ worst case of cotton mouth before scooping Hal up and carrying him back to the bed with him. As soon as he hit the pillow, Hal’s spine relaxed and his snoring stopped entirely. Bruce smiled and hugged him; he knew it was the drugs that caused him to be so forward, but he fell back to sleep before he remembered to let go.

###

Barry had told Hal that the pillow designed for stomach sleepers was the best invention in the world, but Hal hadn’t believed him, even as he tucked one into Hal’s quarters with a stern reminder to take it earthside. Hal had to be in his quarters on the watchtower because he didn’t remember being yelled at by Carol before he went to bed. He didn’t remember terribly much at all before he went to bed. Hal sighed and let the soft spin of the artificial gravity lull him back to sleep, putting off real world responsibilities for five more minutes.

His pillow made a gurgling sound.

Hal snapped awake, wincing as the skin on his face pulled off of the… _black Under Armour shirt_ he had been laying on. Bruce’s face was entirely unreadable as Hal stared blankly up at him, bracketed between his sweatpants clad legs, face covered in his own drool.

Hal’s mostly asleep brain told him with some amusement that he had slept with Bruce Wayne. 

Then the mortification kicked in.

_Hal had drooled on Batman’s abs._

He waited a full 30 seconds for the universe to announce ‘April Fools!’ but he was sorely disappointed when instead Bruce’s face pulled into concern, like maybe Hal had had an aneurysm. Was this how aneurysms felt? He didn’t smell toast, but maybe that was for strokes? Bruce Wayne was sitting at a slight incline, looking like absolute sex with a light smattering of stubble and reading glasses. He was fiddling on a tablet with a fucking BAT emblazoned on the back because _of course_ , and Hal had drooled on his shirt.

“Oh shit I had a thing, sorrybye.” Hal gasped stupidly, snapping his lantern uniform on and barely missing braining himself on the door as he escaped.

He was on Earth before he realized he’d never finished those files for Carol, but that flash drive was dead to him now, much like most of his dignity. He scrubbed the last of the drool off his face and flew to Ferris Air to restart the paperwork and beg for Carol’s forgiveness. Maybe he’d bring coffee. Had Bruce smiled at him? Maybe he’d bring tequila.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone for your patience, oodles of gratitude to all the commenters on the last chapter, and a special thanks to [theLiterator](profile%20url) for the beta!

Chapter 2: Gala

It wasn’t long after Hal fled his quarters on the station that Bruce sat in his favorite leather chair in his study, staring pensively into a perfectly prepared cup of tea.  He had been refusing to think about what had happened, but he knew if he didn’t face it, it’d pop up in a worse way later.

“So Hal didn’t leave your quarters until this morning and he was pretty disheveled, you finally decided to tell him about your crush?” Clark had laughed as Bruce had done the final checks on the Zeta device.

“Hal made sure I didn’t vomit and drown, and don’t be ridiculous, I don’t have a crush on anyone.”  Bruce huffed, powering the device up.

“Sure,” Clark replied, dragging the word into a multi-syllable monstrosity.  Bruce shook his head and stepped through into the Batcave, locking his end of the Zeta device down immediately before he headed straight to the locker room and from there, into the manor proper.  Alfred had magically surmised his mood, arriving with a hot cup of tea and a sandwich, and it was almost enough to make Bruce forgive the man for drugging him.

But then the look of terror on Hal’s face snapped back to the forefront of his memory again and he was right back to feeling betrayed.

Bruce growled and set the delicate cup down before something tragic happened to it.

“So a little bird told me--”

“Get out.” Bruce growled, cutting Tim off before he had a chance to finish.

“Rude. The bird told me that you’re a bit out of sorts still from being drugged and would probably like a rundown of Waynetech reports and Gotham crime while you’ve been gone.” Tim finished, stepping into view with an energy bar balanced on top of two different tablets.  “What offensive thing have other little birds been saying?”

“Nothing, I apologise,” Bruce began. He took the tablets and started to explain before realizing he really didn’t want to, “It’s just been a long week.”

“It must have been if you’re apologising over social improprieties,” Tim joked, “You should get some sleep to be on your A game for the gala.”

_The Humane Society Fundraising Gala._

Bruce closed his eyes in momentary annoyance then picked up his teacup again, drinking the lukewarm beverage nearly like a shot.

“You forgot about the Gala.” Tim accused as Bruce stood, grabbing up the tablets to take with him.

“Of course I didn’t forget the Gala, Tim, it’s at my house.” He insisted, heading to the hallway.

“That’s never stopped you before!” Tim followed on his heels, an incredulous, hard-to-shake shadow.

“Just, can you do me a favor and send Alfred up?” Bruce wasn’t fleeing, but he definitely took advantage of his longer stride.

“Seven P.M. Bruce!” Tim called after him as he climbed the stairs.

“Obviously.” Bruce agreed, silently glad he didn’t have to look up the time online.

###

“So what you’re saying, is that _Batman_ finished your paperwork?” Carol asked, disbelief clear in her voice.

“Look, I’m just saying that I didn’t finish it last night, and I certainly didn’t send a courier with a tamper-proof envelope and a jump drive with a bat logo and a fingerprint unlock.”  Hal huffed from the floor, where he had taken up temporary residence in an attempt to hide from his own impending doom.

“The courier was weird too, he was way more put together than a normal delivery guy and the front gate didn’t see anyone check in.  I watched him leave on the cameras though, then I almost had the thing x-rayed before I decided to bite the bullet and open it.”  Carol chucked her empty paper coffee cup into the trash by his head and, from the sound of it, stole his cup. “So did Batman finish your paperwork before or after you guys banged?”

“We didn’t have sex we slept… together, like, slept, sleeping, you know? Unconscious?” _And don’t forget drooling_ his mind added, helpfully.

“I mean, with such a coherent argument like that I hardly see how anyone could not believe you.” She laughed.  “Oh hey right, incoming.”

Hal was glad of his long familiarity with Carol’s antics as the envelope hit his hand instead of his face. “You could have poked my eye out!” He grumbled, rolling onto his side to protect his face more as he opened the heavy envelope.

“Where did you get an invitation to a gala at Wayne Manor?” Hal asked, reading the sheet a third time.

“The courier dropped that off too, said it was for you specifically.” Hal could hear Carol’s shrug.

“Pass.” Hal cringed, dropping the envelope to the floor.  He didn’t need any more awkwardness.

“You’re not passing on an opportunity to rep Ferris Air at a fancy money event.” Carol practically ordered, before adding, “Did they give you a plus one?”

“Nope, you should take the ticket.” Hal offered, spying a glimmer of hope, “You could wear a pretty dress, rub some elbows, drink free champagne…”

“The ticket is in your name, and I hardly feel like getting kicked out of a free champagne party.  Besides, it’s not like you have any paperwork to do today and there isn’t a flight test coming up for a few days. Get out of my office and go make me some money!”  She nudged him lightly with her foot.

Hal groaned; it would be nice to get an opportunity to speak to Bruce again and clear some things up, but he could also do without ever having that conversation, _ever._

“Why does it feel like you’re pimping me out?” he whined.

He really should have seen it coming when Carol kicked him harder

“Oh no I’m too wounded to go to a partyyyyyy!” He rolled on his side, holding his shoulder in mock pain.

“Get  there, go drink a sensible amount, flirt with Bruce Wayne who is clearly not Batman 'cause that would be ridiculous, and be a good pretty pilot boy for the company. For my company. Make me money with your stupid face.”

Hal stood, finally. He tucked the envelope in his pocket, rolled his shoulders, stretched his back, then snatched his coffee away from a momentarily distracted Carol as she read something on her monitor.

“Coffee thief.” She grumbled, typing a reply to the email she had just received.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” Hal finally replied as he was almost out the door.

“Whatever helps you sleep away the night in his strong arms!” she shouted after him.

***

“Your safehouse security is abhorrent,” read the note, signed with a big, slashy DW.

Probably the strangest part of the note wasn’t the calligraphic handwriting or the lack of detail. No, the strangest part was that it was pinned neatly to the lapel of a dark blue tuxedo with satin black lapels, in Hal’s size, on his bed, in his apartment.

That was the strangest part.

He scanned the apartment with his ring again for intruders, and then scanned the mystery tuxedo again for traps. Finding nothing, he shrugged, then tried it on.  Unsurprisingly by now it fit, and it fit well.  He took the tuxedo back off again-- taking care not to rumple it-- then decided to use the time he would have spent tuxedo shopping wisely, passing out on his couch within minutes of laying down.

###

Bruce had been entertaining an utterly forgettable young debutante whose dossier was rather unfortunately permanently seared to his frontal lobe when he spotted Hal.  

Since he hadn’t remembered the event at all, he obviously hadn’t expected Hal to show up; so when he did so-- wearing a tuxedo that looked suspiciously like one of Dick’s, but perfectly tailored to the taller, broader frame-- Bruce’s mouth went dry and he nearly fumbled a story that had the rapt attention of the forgettable woman and her tittering friends.  He made excuses quickly, which was thankfully easy to do in the beginning of a party like this, and then froze halfway to the bar where Hal was ordering.

What if Hal didn’t want to talk to him?

Or, worse yet, what if Hal had accepted the invitation just to have a public forum in which to tell Bruce off and leave.

The decision to stay or go was made for him when Hal turned and made eye contact with him, breaking out into an unconscious smile which was broken only when Hal realized he was doing it.

“Can we talk?” Bruce asked, gesturing to the hallway that led to some of the more private of the public rooms in the manor.  Most of the first floor was public-ready, just in case of nosey guests or poor decisions from event staff.

“I mean it’s probably, you know, I actually have a thing later so I’ll just uh…” Hal pointed to his wrist where he didn’t have a watch then panicked a bit and shifted the movement to point to the main doors.

“I promise it’ll only be a minute.” Bruce knew he was looking too intensely at Hal, knew he should laugh or shift his weight or make any of the normal Brucie gestures. Instead in the periphery of his vision he saw Dick and Tim move into places near him and draw the attention of nearby groups away with practiced ease.  Hal relaxed a little after a second.

“Alright, let’s do this.” Hal nodded, gesturing to Bruce to lead the way. With a heavy swallow, Bruce led him to one of his favored drawing rooms, feeling both resigned and completely unprepared. But, Hal hadn’t outright refused, so maybe there was still some hope.  That didn’t sound as likely as a sudden ninja attack though, so he didn’t hold much hope.

###

Hal followed Bruce into a room that seemed to be made entirely of leather and mahogany, ready to hear another bat lecture on proprietary or maybe about drugging people, though to be fair that wasn't actually Hal’s idea.

Bruce turned to say something then froze, mouth slightly open, focusing on something behind Hal. The spidery feeling of being watched crawled over his back until Bruce finally started moving again, practically choking out, “Selina, what are you doing here?”

“Brucie, Brucie my dear, I had seen you leave but I didn't realize it was for actual pleasure, I thought for sure it was playacting or business with one of your primary color wearing compatriots,” Selina Kyle purred from against the doors she had slipped though after them. Hal recognized her from some tabloid shots with Bruce and she was even more… memorable in person.

After a moment of silence, when it became clear no one was going to say anything, she stalked toward Hal, circling him tightly like a cat, almost rubbing her hip against him as she reappeared from her too-close circuit.

“Selina, stop.” Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose and breathed very evenly, like he had done the time Superboy had offered to help with global warming by pushing the Earth “slightly farther” from the sun.

“Well I suppose green isn't a primary color anyhow,” Selina mused, holding up a very familiar green carved ring.

“Give that back!” Hal snapped, calling the ring to his hand and snapping his uniform on protectively.

“Hal,” Bruce was still in the exact center of forming his name before Hal realized his misstep.

“My, my, that’s exciting,” Selina purred happily, “You know, despite the glow he really isn't that bright, is he? Maybe the cat’s got his tongue...” Her teeth were sharp in her grin, like a few alien species he could think of who still hunted without weapons; and with a sudden, intense clarity, Hal knew why she had followed them, why she knew so much about Bruce's compatriots and his playacting.

Catwoman.

“Selina really, this isn't appropriate.” Bruce huffed, no trace of the Bat in his voice.

“You see, Batman would have deposited me in the hall with a firm hand in my hair to hide the redness of the hold from the party-- a dress like this shows handprints, you know,” Selina gave a little spin to show the scant front and the back which was held mostly on with tape and thin crisscrossing decorative metallic chains. “But Brucie here is torn between being a daddy figure to every sad story and being a playboy rich kid, his two personas work perfectly to keep each other safe.”

“What is your point?” Hal gritted, glancing back at Bruce who appeared to be counting to a thousand and breathing evenly. Very helpful.

“Well Green Lantern and,” Selina held up a brown wallet, reading from the license with relish, “Hal Jordan from Coast City, why, they react the exact same way, revealing the weaker persona to the viewer,” Selina smiled, holding his wallet out to him.

“Well last I checked, Catwoman was the thief,” he snatched the wallet back, checking his cards and trying in vain to remember if he had had any cash.

To his surprise, Selina laughed. “It was always Selina Kyle who stole things,” she said when she got her giggles under control, she gave him an unreadable grin and held out a ten and two ones, “it's only ever Catwoman who gives things back.” With that enigmatic gem she walked away, exiting the room quickly with a shout of, “I’m glad the rumors were right, you’re a cute couple,” as the door clicked shut behind her.

They were apparently now dismissed from the impromptu lesson about being an asshole in a catsuit.

“What rumors?” Hal dropped the uniform construct and turned to face Bruce, vainly hoping that some small part of the whole thing would make sense but when he looked, despite the window being closed against the rainstorm outside and the only door to the room having been in Hal's eyeline, Bruce was gone. Hal huffed, “Typical.”


End file.
